


Slave Complex

by VerbenaHA



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Canon Universe, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Service Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 02:46:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4462541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VerbenaHA/pseuds/VerbenaHA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Akielon slaves are having a hard time in Vere, Erasmus not the least of all. Perhaps Laurent can offer some sage advice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slave Complex

Slave complex was both a disturbing and ordinary phenomena. In Akielos the palace slaves, hyper focused to please, gave up everything of themselves to their masters. Veretians did not seem to respect that. A Veretian pet grappled for attention while an Akielon slave stayed in the background and was content.

Prince of Patras, Torveld, had thought about one such slave all day. He told himself, for a moment, that it had distracted him during the hunt earlier that day, and so Prince Laurent was able to beat him to the mark on a clearly overtired horse. Of the palace slaves gifted to the Veretian court from Akielos, Erasmus was not only the prettiest of the bunch, he was the brightest. Excellent with music and recitation and he had refined a plethora of practical skills.

There was still the matter of his experience in other things. Not a child anymore, Erasmus had not completed his training, but was instead introduced to real submission unwillingly, unprepared, and unable to say no. There were also the burns on Erasmus’ legs, received after his arrival in Vere.

Torveld felt determined to bring Erasmus back down to a level of security among nobles. Laurent was right: Akielon slaves would be more at home in Patras—and certainly in better care—than they would be in a Veretian court. It was quite a loan but Torveld could think of ways to repay Laurent for the king’s ransom of palace slaves.

There were gentle souls in Patras where the other slaves would fit in but Erasmus was stuck in his mind and he kept him close by. At the end of the day, when all was said and done and they could lie in bed trying to sleep, Torveld did not push him but gently tried to find his limits.

Torveld awoke three times in the night, unable to stay asleep so far from home. Traveling was nice and being a guest was nice but a strange bed was not. Erasmus was still by his side during the first two restless fits, but closer to morning, when Torveld awoke, Erasmus was gone. Not in the room, he was huddled on the balcony under the patio table. Erasmus clutched his fists to his skull while he cried and tried not to be heard.

Torveld scooped him up into his lap and cradled him. He was going to pretend this was not the inconvenience that it was. At home, he would have Erasmus sent back to the Keeper for the night where he could sleep in his own bed, maybe have a hot drink to calm him down. Erasmus knew the rules and perhaps he left the bed to go downstairs by himself. Except that this was Vere and there was no Keeper. There was nowhere better for him to be, not just as a slave but a wounded young man, than with his master.

“People have told me my whole life that I should not cry,” said Torveld when Erasmus started to choke out a string of apologies: slaves were not supposed to be seen acting this way. “But we’re human. It’s good to cry sometimes. Don’t be ashamed, it’s alright. You can cry, for now, it’s alright.”

Having a tantrum complete with kicking and screaming might have been good for Erasmus, but the most he would do was smoosh his face into a seat cushion. Eventually his shallow breathing ebbed into deeper, calmer breaths while Torveld stroked his hair. He sniffed a few times and, without warning, backed away and bowed his head.

“I want—I need—to speak his Highness.”

Laurent.

Torveld nodded very slowly. “I think that can be arranged.”

Just before the sun crested the horizon, Laurent waited for them in a sitting room. Already dressed for the day, Torveld wondered if he had gotten much sleep.

“Torveld,” Laurent said, when they entered. He seemed grim, but Torveld blamed it on the time and not the prince.

“I’m sorry,” said Torveld. “I know it’s so early.”

“I was awake anyway. What does your slave need?”

“Well…” he took a step away from Erasmus, revealing him to be already kneeling on the floor. His eyes were red and Laurent examined him as if he were a wounded animal. Laurent frowned at the bent knees, the way everything about his posture embodied subtlety. Erasmus did not try to grab attention, never looked for it, and yet his master had seen him cry. He probably felt embarrassed, in fact, he looked humiliated.

Laurent said, “You’re not in trouble, Torveld wants to help you.” Erasmus said nothing.

“I think perhaps this is something he wants to tell you personally,” Torveld bowed his head respectfully to Laurent and left. “I’ll leave you alone.”

Laurent stood up. He walked to Erasmus but stopped two paces away. “I would never get used to this humility,” he said in his own language. “Vannes calls it cute.” He let out a single breathy laugh and turned away. This parlor had a book shelf and bench seats under the window.

“My brother always told me not to cry in front of superiors. I always knew I could cry in front of him because he knew everyone gets hurt sometimes.” Laurent looked around the room, as if to find something that caught his interest and when nothing did, he looked at Erasmus and spoke to him in Akielon.

“Speak.”

Head bowed, Erasmus spoke clearly. “Your slave Damen—”

“Is not going with you,” said Laurent. The boy’s hesitance was frustrating, but Laurent told himself it was not his fault. It probably took effort, in a slave so young, to speak directly to a master this way.

“Yes, your highness,” Erasmus said. “He confessed to me that he is here as a prisoner.” Laurent felt his lips curl into a frown. What else had Damen said?

“Look up,” he said. Erasmus did so, puffy eyes and flushed cheeks burning. “What is your question?” He tried to make his voice gentle, he really did.

“I needed to ask, sire,” said Erasmus; “Is that why I’m here?”

It was not what Laurent had expected. Damen was insubordinate and rude; everything Erasmus was not, from build to voice to temperament to _purpose_. What could he have done? Refused to sing a dirty ballad?

“Why should you be punished?”

Erasmus was beautifully controlled most of the time, but his eyes betrayed everything. An open book, Laurent could see the heavy emotions building in him, a kind of quavering in his face and trembling in his limbs that he was fighting to hold back. Laurent decided he would make a horrible liar, if given the order.

“…I’m tainted,” Erasmus sighed. So something had happened, but he had been flawless when he arrived in Vere… hadn’t he? Erasmus could see Laurent’s oh-so subtle confusion and elaborated.

“I kissed another slave while training for the prince. I needed to know if that’s why I was brought here.”

Submission was one thing, but chastity was something else entirely. It didn’t surprise Laurent that some slaves would have trouble with it. It was probably natural, but still, Erasmus was usually so quiet and controlled.

“Why did you kiss the slave?” he asked, after a moment.

“It was unexpected,” said Erasmus. “But… I kissed him back.”

Fascinating. “Did you love him?”

Erasmus said nothing but his silence was enough for Laurent to get a clearer picture. Perhaps not love but some sort of longing that slaves were not allowed to satisfy. But, whatever the reason Erasmus was sent to Vere, either for his excellent showmanship or because he had touched before he was told, Laurent could not say. It hardly mattered now, either way, the deed was done.

“Your treatment reflects poorly on the regent, me, and everyone who lives here,” said Laurent. Erasmus and the other slaves were leaving for yet another homeland with Torveld. It was better to get him focused on that. Erasmus searched Laurent’s eyes and listened. “It sets a bad example of my court. I don’t know how it is in Akielos, but a kiss does not taint you. I haven’t heard of anything for you to be punished for.” Erasmus seemed to lighten a little at that, just a little, and Laurent drove it home. “What has been done to you is disgraceful. That’s why you are leaving again, to Patras. You will be appreciated there as you would be in Akielos.”

“Am I not a prisoner?”

“You are no prisoner of anyone here.” If anything, he deserved some compensation for his troubles. Were he a pet, he would have gotten it by now.

Erasmus slipped into thoughtfulness again and Laurent waited. Who knew how many other people lived in the palace that he could talk to? Better to let him ask his questions now.

“Is being a slave so bad? So horrible that it can be a punishment?”

“I think it’s more likely that you were sent away from Ios because you were being trained for the prince and suddenly he was not there anymore.” Silence. “I’m sorry he was stolen from you.” Which was almost the truth. He was not sorry for the fate of Prince Damianos, not at all, but his slaves had taken pride in their service. For someone like Erasmus to feel so crushed by his loss was surreal and depressing.

Erasmus mistakenly took the condolences as an opportunity to talk about him.

“Damianos was… loved,” he said. “I knew he would be handsome and powerful and everyone praised him. I would think about him and I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t sleep because…” He broke off and Laurent was grateful. “I believed that I worked so hard to be with the slave.”

“To be with the slave,” Laurent mused and Erasmus nodded. “Don’t do that to yourself. Don’t think about what might have been. You are going to Patras to start anew.”

Erasmus smiled, looking grateful. “I will. We will. We’re looking forward to it.” Laurent did not ask him whether ‘we’ meant himself and the other slaves or Torveld. “You’re Highness?”

“Yes?”

“Is love supposed to hurt this bad?”

Were Erasmus like a Veretian pet, the conversation might still evolve into something explicit, but Erasmus was not a pet and his frank question was sincere. In the back of his mind, Laurent wondered what he had done to make Erasmus feel so comfortable in conversation like this: just talking to each other.

“Grief is what hurts,” Laurent said. “We grieve because we loved.”

“I don’t believe love ever felt as nice as I imagined it would. The way songwriters talk about it…”

“I know what you mean.” He took a step forward, going for the door. It was time this conversation ended. “We’re just unlucky, I suppose. But you know what?” He gripped the handle and turned back to give Erasmus a parting grin.

“I’ve not given up hope yet, and neither should you. Keep planning ahead. It’s what I always do."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you Tyler for the title.
> 
> And thank you for reading! Please, let me know what you thought! What worked, what didn't work. Out of character, in character?


End file.
